


Swinging in your inhibitions, laughing in your love

by protaganope



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Birthday, Gen, The good fic where nothing hurts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 00:07:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16186010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/protaganope/pseuds/protaganope
Summary: It is Hamilton’s birthday. His children want to give him a gift.(Angelica and Philip are dreamteam)





	Swinging in your inhibitions, laughing in your love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [waitfor_it](https://archiveofourown.org/users/waitfor_it/gifts).



> happy birthday lovely

Early January, and the grass is wet with dew as one Angelica Hamilton wanders into the garden. There is a surprising lack of chill to the air. The Lord must know how important of a day this was, she found herself thinking.

It was her father’s birthday.

She raises her dress enough to clamber over the low fence, humming a light tune as she went. It followed the accompanying melody to the music she had just begun to learn on the piano with her father, a sweet, smooth and flowing order of notes that she simply adored.

Here the trees become bigger, the thickets denser and Angie looks up in awe at the sprawling branches and shaded leaves. The gentle spring sun filters through any gaps and invites itself into the area. This was her spot. The place where she came to play, away from the noise of the rest of the world.

A bird’s call, and Angie spots the blurred darting aquiline-like figure, not so far away. She moves in the direction from whence the blue bodied bird came, to investigate. Her steps are sure and at home in this natural wonderland, carefully avoiding the larger twigs and muddier patches in the undergrowth. Angie’s eye is fast, falls upon a clearly disturbed nest quickly, makes her way over to see what had occurred.

Upon further inspection, the ruptured nest seemed to have been attacked, she thought with a frown. One of the eggs had cracked, and another had been cast out of the bundle of sticks altogether. She scooped up this unbroken circle of fragility, with all the care she could muster. The forest was silent.

She turned, and went back in the direction of the house. Over the wall, past the stump, she looks over her shoulder—

—And nearly jumps out of her skin as her brother’s voice appears out of nowhere.

“What’re you doing?”

Her eyes dart back and forth, looking for the origin of her elder brother.

“Up here.”

Philip is somewhat haphazardly dangling from the lower branches of a tree. Angie takes this in calmly for a moment.

Then she realises the implications.

“Philip, that’s dangerous!” She whispered, looking over at the house hurriedly. Their mother would still be asleep, or busy doing some light work so as to not stress the baby. It was their father they would have to watch out for, awake all hours and in the habit of looking out at the garden from his office.

In truth, Angie would rather join Philip than scold him, but the feeling of the egg in her hands stops her.

“It’ll be fine-“ Philip starts to say, and, as though the universe had changed its mind solely to prove him wrong, immediately becomes unsteady.

He unceremoniously drops to the ground, and Angie huffs that it serves him right.

He doesn’t move, and for a second she gets concerned, before he’s springing to his feet, acting like nothing happened. The grass stains on his clothes say otherwise. “So? What’s that?” He asks, trying to play it casual. It’s a pathetic attempt, but Angie humours him, answers in kind.

“An egg. I found it just now.” His eyes light up as she finishes her sentence, and thrusts his hands out, begging to hold it. She narrows her eyes, sceptical, but aquiesces at his pleading expression. “Only if you’re careful.”

“I’m always careful.” He takes a step forward, and nearly trips.

Angie just looks at him.

Blushing, Philip coughs into his sleeve, pushes a stray lock of hair from in front his face. “Pretend that didn’t happen.”

Angie can’t help it; she laughs. It’s a merry twinkling that soon sets off Philip too. It takes a while for the two of them to gather themselves, such is the wont of children.

She hands Philip the egg, and he takes it gingerly, rubbing his thumb slightly over the smooth shell. “Wow,” he marvels. “You should give this to father.” He pauses, “Hold on.” He puts the egg between his forefinger and thumb and extends his arm toward the sky. Covers one eye and squints into the sunlight. It had gotten brighter as the day had continued, so the sun was considerable enough to do the trick. “Nothing inside.” He grinned.

“Can you help me prepare it?” Angie asked. Philip pulled a face.

“You just don’t feel like blowing the yolk out yourself.”

“Yes or no?”

“...Yes.”

So they ran into the house, borrowed a pin from the sewing room, and fled outside again. There was a feeling of secrecy the two wordlessly felt must be maintained. Sat on a bench, holding the egg firm in her non-dominant hand, Angie searched for the grey weak spot their father had pointed out to the two of them, before. A clean puncture on both sides, and she smiled to herself before the smile became a smirk. She handed the shell to Philip innocently enough.

He glared playfully back.

Pressing his lips to one side, Philip blew out the yolk best he could. Face turning red with exertion, Angie giggled at his grimace once he pulled away for air.

“Aw, I got it on my shoe!” He lamented, looking down, melodramatic as always. Angie hid her face in her hand before telling him to get back to it. He sighed, muttering something under his breath about _demanding younger sisters_ and wanting _a little brother instead of this_.

But he obediently finished getting the yolk out of the egg, in good time, too. He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand furiously once he was done, and hurriedly passed the cleaned-out egg in Angie’s general direction.

Unlike Philip right now, the egg had a good colour to it, pale and white as milk, with the occasional dark fleck appearing from it. It was much lighter in weight, after having expelled its insides, and it had a sound to it when she put her ear to one of the sides.

“I’m sure he’ll like this!” She said excitedly.

“Let’s go give it to him, mom should be done with dragging him from his office by now.” Philip added, suddenly recovered. They shared a grin at the thought of their gentle mother forcing their father to spend some time outside.

The two hadn’t seen their father at breakfast, him being too busy working— no surprise there. At top speed, Philip bolted into the house, Angie hot on his heels. She was being careful not to drop the precious gift, so resisted the urge to pout as Philip turned to call her in once he reached the door. “Slow,” he teased, and she did pout then. Hushed him with the haughty tone that came out when she was embarrassed. He laughed good-heartedly, and she smiled, a small warmth for him.

They soon found their mother, sat knitting clothes for the baby. She looked up when they spilled in, and smiled as Angie explained their plan. Eliza rose with the slow consideration of any pregnant woman, and turned to take something off of one of the shelves.

“Before you give that to your father, shall you decorate it? There’s enough space there for you to both add something painted.” She smiled, lovingly overseeing her two children talk excitedly at what they could put on the egg.

Philip threw his arms out boyishly, animatedly speaking, maybe a little too loud. “I want to paint a dog!”

Angie nodded sagely, appearing adorable in her serious tone, “I want to do a bird.” She took the slim paint box from her mother, passed it to Philip, before they were racing away again, inspired with the high energy of youth. 

They took turns to paint on their artworks, blowing tirelessly on the surface to try and dry it faster. The paint somehow got all over their hands, but they didn’t care. It was worth it for their Pa.

“What are the two of you up to?” Both Philip and Angie’s heads shot up at the tired sound of their father’s voice.

“Pops!” Philip leaped up to his feet, lumbering over to him. Alexander took the two of them in, a pleasant expression gracing his features. He chuckled as Philip jumped at him, swinging off his arm and nearly pulling him over. Angie hid the gift behind her as he walked across the room to her. “We have something for you!”

“Is that so? Okay.” He said lightly, tone humoring. Angie took this as her cue.

“Here.” She kept her hands cupped as she gifted her father the egg, covering it until the last moment.

“Happy birthday.” She and Philip said in unison. 

It was visible on Alexander’s face when he realised how precious what he was holding was. His eyebrows drew together and his lips pressed in emotion as he gazed upon his children’s present for him.

A dog from Philip. Strong, loyal and determined.

A bird from Angelica. Free, empathetic and ambitious.

They were perfect.

“Thank you.” He put the egg carefully onto the mantlepiece, tenderly watching it for a moment, to make sure it wasn’t about to roll off, before he turned to face his children. Opening his arms, his voice wavered as he beckoned them over. “Come here, my loves.”

They were fast to comply, scrambling over and savouring the tight embrace of their father, of whom was thankful in that overwhelming way, the way that words just couldn’t express.

“I take it you like your present from them, then?” Came Eliza’s soft voice from the door.

Alexander turned his head to see his wife leaning in the frame, a bemused expression on her face. He smiled brightly at her, not letting go of his beloved children.

“Oh, absolutely.”

 


End file.
